


I'll Keep the Lights On

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Fall Away [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (we need D/s threesome tags), Alternate Universe - BDSM, Canon Injury, Coming In Pants, Cuddling & Snuggling, D/s AU, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Grinding, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, Referenced Negotiations, Skype Sex, Threesome - D/s/s, Threesome - M/M/M, implied aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something about Connor that makes everyone want to take care of him, and it’s not just because he’s a sub.  Maybe it’s his wide eyes, or the way he bites the inside of his lip, or how soft his voice gets.  He submits so sweetly that it makes Dylan wish he could be everything Connor deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Keep the Lights On

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel to "I Don't Wanna Fall Away" - still Switch!Marns, switch!Dylan, sub!Connor
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do i make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

When Connor comes around the car, wearing a baggy hoodie and a backwards snap back, Dylan almost cries.  He knows he says something, probably Connor’s name, and hurries around the car to hug him tightly.

He was recording it, because _Connor’s here_ , if anything is snapchat worthy it’s that.  He just hopes his phone doesn’t pick up his sniffle when he buries his face in Connor’s shoulder.

“Hey buddy,” Connor whispers.  Dylan can feel the shape of his smile against his neck.

“Hey,” Dylan replies wetly.  He holds Connor close for another minute, until he can’t really pass it off as just missing his friend.  He’s sure his billet family has guessed something about their relationship, given how much time Dylan spends on the phone with Connor, but they’ve never asked about it.

“Gonna take me inside, Stromer?”

“Fuck off,” Dylan laughs, pulling back and wiping his eyes.  “Give me your bag.”

Connor hands it over without a fight.  He looks tired, circles under his eyes, face pinched.  Dylan hefts the duffle over his shoulder and grabs Connor’s wrist, leading him inside the house and down into the basement, to his room.  Connor manages a wave to Dylan’s billet mom on the way, but Dylan can worry about Connor being polite later.  He just needs _Connor_.

Dylan drops Connor’s bag as soon as they get in the room, shutting the door behind them.  Connor’s just standing there, staring at Dylan.  Dylan can’t believe it’s been _months_ since they’ve been in the same room.

“Lie down, however it’s comfortable for you,” Dylan says, voice thick.  “Like, for your collarbone.”

Connor smiles and pulls the blankets back on the bed, crawling into the middle and lying down on his side.  There’s the perfect amount of space for Dylan on either side of him – curled around him from the back, or facing him in the front.

Dylan slips into the bed and lies facing Connor, pulling the blanket over them and tucking it behind Connor’s back.  He knows Connor gets cold, sometimes; Dylan wonders if he’s doing all right, with it getting to winter in Edmonton.

There’s something about Connor that makes everyone want to take care of him, and it’s not just because he’s a sub.  Maybe it’s his wide eyes, or the way he bites the inside of his lip, or how soft his voice gets.

“I missed you,” Connor says, hushed, barely more than a breath.

“I missed you, too,” Dylan replies.  Their faces are barely an inch apart.  Connor’s eyes flick down to Dylan’s lips, but he doesn’t lean in to kiss him.

Dylan takes the leap.  He presses closer, kissing Connor softly.  Connor makes a low noise and kisses back, tilting his head a bit.

He can’t get enough.  Dylan slides a hand into Connor’s hair, cupping the back of his head and keeping him where Dylan wants him.  Connor doesn’t even fight it; he submits so sweetly that it makes Dylan wish he could be everything Connor deserves.

“You look like shit,” Dylan whispers against Connor’s lips.

Connor huffs a laugh, nudging his forehead against Dylan’s.  “Thanks.”

“Aren’t Hall and Gazdic taking care of you?”

“Of course,” Connor replies, kissing Dylan again, gently.  “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount,” Dylan mutters, making Connor laugh again.

But Connor’s looking a little better in the soft lamplight, better than he did outside.  The circles under his eyes don’t seem as dark, the crease between his brows not as deep.  Dylan likes to think that he’s the cause of the improvement.

Dylan would rather kiss Connor than argue about _emotions_ , so he does.  He kisses him softly, slips his tongue into Connor’s mouth.  Connor clenches his hands in Dylan’s shirt, like he couldn’t bear it if Dylan moved even a centimeter away.

So Dylan keeps kissing him, their tongues sliding against each other, noses bumping every so often as Dylan pushes closer and Connor reciprocates.

Finally, he has to pull back.  “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything,” Connor replies, blinking at Dylan.

“What do you _want_ , then.”

Connor hums.  “Stay like this.”

Dylan finds that hard to believe.  “You don’t want me to—”

“Dylan,” Connor says softly, cutting him off.  “Really, I just want to lie here with you.  I can tell you’re tired, too.”

“I can still—”

Connor kisses him.  Dylan can’t really do anything but kiss him back.

“Really,” Connor says when he pulls back.  “Let’s just…”

“Yeah,” Dylan concedes, settling more under the blankets, one arm thrown over Connor’s waist.  “Okay.”

He never could deny Connor anything.

 

.oOo.

 

Dylan’s still got four days before his next game.  Even with practice and everything else, that’s a lot of time he can spend with Connor.

“Did you have any plans today?” Connor asks, when they’re sitting in the kitchen the next morning, eating cereal.

Dylan and Marns had planned on skyping.  “Nothing I can’t move around.”

“What is it?”

Dylan drags his spoon through the milk in his bowl, pushing all the cheerios to one side.  “Call with Marns.”

Connor fucking _lights up_.  Of course he does.  If Connor was gonna go for a switch, it would be one like Marns.

“I’ll talk to him, too!”

“Yeah,” Dylan says.  He can’t really force enthusiasm about it.  He knows Marns and Connor are friends, especially because he’s friends with both of them, too, but it just makes him feel like an unnecessary side of a triangle.

“If that’s okay?” Connor asks, sliding his chair closer so he can press along Dylan’s side.  “I can, like, go visit some of the guys.”

“No – I’d…” Dylan has to close his eyes to be able to say it.  “I’d rather spend the time with you.”

“It’s not like you have to choose between us,” Connor says, nudging him gently.  “I know you need him.”

“I don’t _need_ him,” Dylan objects, but he doesn’t move away.

Connor rolls his eyes.  “Sure, Stromer.”

“No,” Dylan says, turning to face Connor.  “Really.  If you said you had a problem with me and Marns, I’d stop.  I’d fucking – I’d tell him no.  It’s _you_ that I need.”

Connor’s eyes are wide – wider than normal.  His mouth’s open, like he’s actually surprised that Dylan wants him more than Marns.  And then he melts, taking hold of Dylan’s hand in both of his.

“I’d never ask you to do that,” Connor murmurs, leaning his forehead on Dylan’s.  “C’mon, Dyls.  I love you.  I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

“I know.”  It’s not bragging.  It’s just a statement of fact.

“I love you, too,” Dylan says.  Connor flushes bright red, eyes darting to the side.  Dylan grins.  “Really?”

“Shut up,” Connor mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dylan kisses him softly.  “I love you.”

It gets easier to say it.  It’s still fucking embarrassing, how gone he is over Connor, but it’s better knowing Connor is just as gone over him.

“So I really don’t mind about you and Mitch,” Connor says.  He’s intent on it, like he gets with a puck in a shootout.  “You can’t always do everything for me.  I can’t always do everything for you.  At least we still get each other.”

“Yeah,” Dylan sighs.  He knows that Connor has been with other Doms, especially since he’s been with the Oilers.  He’s not jealous; if he can’t be what Connor needs, at least someone can.

“It doesn’t mean we’re not good together.”

“Yeah,” Dylan says, more firmly.  Nobody can say he and Connor aren’t fucking perfect together.  He’d fight them, and he wouldn’t fucking break his hand doing it.

Connor kisses him.  He tastes like honey nut cheerios.  Dylan likes it.

 

.oOo.

 

Connor and Dylan are sitting side-by-side on Dylan’s bed, the blankets pushed to the foot of the bed.  They’ve got Dylan’s laptop balanced between them, Skype open, waiting for Marns to call.

Dylan is purposefully not thinking about how strange this is.

Finally, the call comes through.  Connor’s the one to press “accept,” after Dylan freezes and can’t get his hand to move.

“Davo!” Marns exclaims, face lighting up.  “How you doing?”

“Not bad,” Connor shrugs a little.

“I’m fine, too,” Dylan says, forcing a grin.  Marns rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling.  He never stops.

“Don’t be rude to Daddy,” Marns corrects him, raising an eyebrow.

Connor sucks in a breath and tenses next to Dylan.  Dylan bites his lip.

“Shit,” Marns breaths, eyes wide.  “Did he not—?”

Dylan blushes.  “Not about that.”

“Not that it’s a problem!” Connor adds, voice high-pitched.  Dylan would laugh, in any other situation.

“Really?” Dylan asks, turning to look at him.  Connor still looks nervous, but he just smiles.  His default state is some level of anxiety, anyway.

“Davo, you know that’s like… the basis of what me and Dyls do, right?” Marns asks hesitantly.  They’d negotiated a bit two days ago, before Dylan knew Connor was coming to visit.  They always lay out how they want it to go, just in case.  They’re getting to know each other well enough that they don’t need to say much anymore.

“Really, it’s not a problem,” Connor says, licking his lips.

 _Oh,_ Dylan thinks.

“Oh,” Marns says.  He’s grinning again.  “You wanna do what Daddy tells you, huh, Davo?”

“I’ve – uh – Ferknuckle’s kinda into it,” Connor says, his whole face bright red.

Dylan could just about die.

“But are you into it?” Dylan asks.

Connor nods hesitantly.

“Now Daddy’s got two nice boys to take care of,” Marns says.  Dylan looks back at the screen, at Marns’s face, washed out by the light of his screen.

“Yeah,” Dylan breathes, sinking into the headspace that Marns can always lead him to.  Marns always starts with questions, suggestions, only starting with real orders when Dylan’s so deep in subspace there’s no chance he’s still holding onto a Dom mindset at all.  Dylan can tell Connor’s getting to that place, too, sitting a little less straight next to him.

“Why don’t the two of you kiss, since Daddy isn’t there to do it himself.”

Dylan turns to Connor, cupping his cheek and drawing him into a kiss.  Connor brings a hand up to Dylan’s shoulder, fingers digging in through his t-shirt.

It’s just like it usually is between them, until Dylan hears Marns say, “God, you two look so good.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Dylan pulls back to say.

“Thank you,” Connor pants, and kisses Dylan again, like he can’t stand to be separated from him.  Dylan moans into his mouth, twisting so it’s easier to kiss him.

“Dyls, put your hand under his shirt.”

Dylan slides his hand up under Connor’s t-shirt, fingertips grazing his abs, the cut of his ribs.  Connor moans into his mouth.  Dylan knows exactly where to press his fingers in to get Connor to squirm against him, and from Marns’s low moan, he likes it.

“Now Davo, do the same for Dyls.”

Connor breaks the kiss and looks over at the computer, his fingers clenched in the hem of Dylan’s shirt.  “Can you – could you not call me that, please?”

Dylan glances over at the screen.  Marns is smiling that little, gentle smile he has sometimes.  “How about Connor?  Is that good?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Connor says, and slides his hand up Dylan’s shirt.  He knows exactly where to touch, too; he goes straight for Dylan’s nipples, pinching one between his thumb and forefinger.  Dylan jerks like he’s been electrocuted, hands skittering over Connor’s stomach.

“You like having your nipples played with, Dyls?” Marns asks thickly.

“Yes, Daddy,” Dylan pants, arching into Connor’s hands.

“You never showed me that before.”

“It embarrasses him,” Connor says, and pinches again.  Dylan moans, high and breathy, and he can’t even form a protest.  Connor always knew exactly how to get to him.  Marns is learning, too.

It’s – not unpleasant, being that vulnerable.

“How do the two of you normally get off?” Marns asks.

Dylan thinks about it.  The first couple times, they hadn’t had the courage to touch each other.  They’d sat across from each other and jerked off, staring at each other.  Then they’d graduated to hand jobs, grinding together, blow jobs.  That’s as far as they’ve ever gone.  Dylan knows which one he likes the best, but that wasn’t what Marns had asked.

“Usually, uh, hand jobs, or—” Connor flushes and bites his lip.  Dylan knows he likes the grinding, humping together, clothes on or off, just as much as Dylan does.  It’s time for him to step up and give Connor what he wants.

“Grinding together,” Dylan says firmly.  He looks at the computer, at Marns’s flushed face.  “Daddy, that’s – _please_.”

“Of course, Daddy’ll give you what you want.”  Marns’s voice is soothing, soft.  “You’re so good for telling Daddy what you want.”

Dylan presses a smile to Connor’s neck.  Marns’s praise always fills him up to bursting.

“You two gonna grind together so Daddy can see?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Connor and Dylan say in unison.  Dylan throws a leg over Connor’s thigh, pushing closer until their hips are pressed together.  Connor moans loudly, rocking forward into the cradle of Dylan’s hips.

“You like having Dyls all around you, Connor?” Marns asks, his voice hushed, like he doesn’t want to destroy the tension between all of them.  “Like how well he holds you?  How he can give you exactly what you need?”

Connor just moans and nods his head furiously.  He’s jerking in Dylan’s arms, thrusting against him.  Dylan can feel how hard he is in his sweats, his cock sliding against Dylan’s.  It never gets old, having Dylan like this.

“Dyls, you gonna make Connor come?  Make him come for Daddy?”

“Yeah,” Dylan pants, kissing Connor’s neck.  He grabs hold of Connor’s ass, using it to pull Connor more against him.  He tries to set up some sort of rhythm, between the two of them rocking together, but he can’t manage it.  Connor’s completely gone, body mostly lax and his eyes glazed, and Dylan is too frenzied from having Connor in his arms and Marns on the screen.

“Can I come?” Connor groans, arching into Dylan.  “Please Daddy can I come I wanna come for you—”

“Yeah, Connor, come for Daddy.”

Connor jerks on command, come spurting into his pants.  It starts soaking through right away; Dylan can feel it making the front of his pants wet.

“Look at his face, Dyls,” Marns orders.  Dylan pulls back just enough to see Connor’s face, the tired smile, the shine of tears at the corner of his eyes.  “Look at how good he feels.  You did that, Dyls, you made Connor feel so good, gave him everything he wanted—”

“I’m gonna,” Dylan whines, barely keeping his eyes open.  “Daddy—”

“Yeah, Dyls, come.”

Dylan snaps, his whole body tensing.  He’s holding Connor tight against him, hips jerking against Connor.  Marns hadn’t said he could look away from Connor’s face yet; even when his eyes are trying to roll back, he works as hard as he can to stay focused on Connor.

“Fuck,” Marns bites out.  “Look at me – both of you—”

Connor’s head flops when he turns to look at the screen.  Dylan smiles and turns to Marns, too.

Marns had pushed his laptop back, so it’s not just his face on the screen anymore.  Dylan can see where Marns has pushed up his Knights t-shirt, the red tracks his nails left on his stomach.  He can see Marns’s jeans pushed down his thighs, his hand fisted around his leaking cock.

Connor moans low in his throat.  Dylan gets that.

“Look so good, Daddy,” Dylan chokes out, eyes darting between Marns’s cock and his face.  “You liked me and Connor coming for you?”

“Yeah, Dyls, I did.”  Marns’s hand speeds up.  “Looked _fucking…_ ”

“Wanna see you come, Daddy,” Connor slurs.  “Please, Daddy.”

“Come for us,” Dylan says, and watches as Marns curls in on himself and comes across his stomach.

“Fuck,” Marns pants, letting go of his cock after a long second.  “Fuck, Connor, Dyls…”

Connor smiles, looking almost proud.  Dylan can’t help himself.  He presses his lips to Connor’s forehead and murmurs, “Love you.”

Connor turns towards him.  “Love you, too,” he says, louder.

“Oh,” Marns says.  Dylan looks over at him.  His eyes are wide and shocked, his mouth hanging open.  Dylan would laugh at him, at any other time.

“Thank you,” Dylan says to him.  He doesn’t want Marns to feel left out, to think they don’t want him.  Just because Dylan wants Connor and Marns in different ways doesn’t mean one of them isn’t important.

“Thanks,” Connor echoes, already trying to burrow into Dylan’s shoulder.  He always likes to curl up and nest after a scene.

“Don’t forget to eat and drink something,” Marns instructs.  Dylan grabs a Gatorade from the nightstand and shows it to Marns.  “Good.”

“You’re gonna fall asleep,” Dylan says softly.  “Get out of your jeans before you do.”

“Yeah, I know, Dyls,” Marns replies, and then yawns.

“Go to bed.”

“Yeah, night,” Marns says.

“It’s the afternoon,” Connor says muzzily, but Marns disconnects the call.  Dylan hands the Gatorade to Connor, watching as he takes a careful sip.

“You good?” Dylan asks.

“Yeah,” Connor replies, handing the Gatorade back.  “You take good care of me.”

Dylan blushes.

“Let’s take a nap,” Connor says, and pulls the blankets back up.  Dylan can’t argue with him, not that he ever really wants to.

He closes his computer before Connor can see the tabs he has open in his browser and sets it aside.  There’ll be time to talk to Connor about collars.  Marns, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally 100% because of that snapchat video of Connor visiting Dylan and both of them sounding like they're going to cry i .01 seconds.
> 
> Join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes.tumblr.com


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